The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-11-27
CHAPTER ".
THE SECOND SOWING.

THE SECOND SOWING.
It is no part of mine to narrate the adventures
| of John Nicholson, which were many, but
simply his momentous msadventures,
which were more than he desired aud. by hui
man standards, more than he deserved; how he
reached California, how he rocked, and
robbed. and beaten, and starved; how he was at
last taken up by charitable folk, restored to
some degree of self com placency, and installed
as a clerk in a bank at San Francisco, it would
take too long to tell, nor in these episodes were
there any marks of the peculiar Nicholsonic
fell some thousands of other young Adventures
in the same days and places. But once posted
in the bank, he fell for time into a high degree
of good fortune. which, it was only longer
way about to fresh disaster, it behooves US to
explain.
1t was his luck to meet a young man in what
is technically called ''dIve," and thanks to his
monthly wages, to extricate this new acquaiut-
ance from q position of present disgrace and
possible danger in the future. This young
man the nephew of one of the Mob Hill
magnates who run the San Francisco Stock Ex-
change much ore humble adventures, in
the rner of some publ p ark at home, may be
seen to perform the simple arti6ce of pea and
thmble: for their own profit. that Is to say and
the encouragement of public gambling. 1t was
thus in his power-and he was of grateful
temper. 1t was among the things that he desired
put John in the way of growing rich; and
thus without thought or industry, much
understanding the game at which he played,
but by simply buying and selling what he was
told to buy and sell, that playthng of fortune
was presently at the head of between eleven
and twelve thousand pounds. or. as he reckoned
it, of upwards of sixty thousand dollars.
How he had come to deserve this wealth any
more than how he had formerly earned disgrace
at home, problem beyond the reach of his
philosophy. 1t is true that he had been indus
trous at the bank, but more SO than the
cashier who had seven small children and was
vlsibly sinking in decline. Nor was the step
which determined his advances visit to dive
with a months wages in his pocket-an act of
such transcendent virtue even wisdom
to seem to merit the favor of the gods. From
some sense OF this. and of the dizzy seesaw-
keaven-hgh. hell-deep-on which sit
clutchlng; or perhaps fearing that the sources OF
his fortune might be insidiously traced to some
root in the field of petty cash; ne stuck to his
work said not a word of his circumstances,
and kept his account with bank in a different
quarter of the town. The concealment inno-
cent as it seems, was the first step in the second
traei- comedy of John s existence.
Meanwhile. he had written home.
Whether from diffdence or shame touch of
anger. mere procrastnation, or because las
have seen) he had skill in literary arts.
because las am sometimes tempted to supposeJ
there is a law In human nature which prevents
young meu-not otherwise beasts-frora per-
forming this simple act of piety-months and
years had gone BY, and John had never written.
The habit of not writing, indeed, was already
fixed before he had begun to come into his for
tune. and it was only the difficulty of breaking
this long silence that withheld him from an in
slant restitution of the money he had stolen
las he preferred to call it, borrowed. In vain he
sat before paper, attending on inspiration; that
heavenly nymph, beyond suggesting the words
my dear father" remained Obstinately silent;
and presently John would crumple up the sheet
and decide. as soon as he had "a good chance"
TO carry the money home In person. And this
delay which is indefensible was his second step
into Snares of fortune.
Ten years had passed. and John was drawing
near to thirty. He had kept the promise of his
boyhood. and was now of a lusty frame. verging
towards corpulence; coed features good eyes, a
genial manner. a ready laugh, a long pair of
sandy whiskers. dash of American accent.
close familiarity with the great American
To a r
who sb all remain nameess for me. made up the
mans externas as he could be viewed in soci
ETY.. 1nwardlv, in spite of his gross body and
hg bly, masculine whiskers, he was more like
m alden lady than q man of twenty nine.
1t chancsd one day. as he stroling down
Market street. the eve of his fortnights holt
day, that his eye was caught by certain railway
bills. and in very idleness of mind he calculated
that he might be home for Christmas if he
started the morrow. The fancy thrilled
him with desire, and in one moment he decided
he would go.
There was much TO be doue His portman-
teau to be packed. credit to be got from the
bank. where he wealthy customer, and
certain Offices to be transacted for that other
bank in which he was humble clerk and it
CHANGED. in conformity with human nature, that
out of all this business it the last that came
to be neglected. Night found him, not only
equipped with money of his own, but once more
{ as on that former occasion) saddled with q con-
siderable sum of other peoples.
Now it CHANGED there lived in the
boarding house fellow-clerk of his. honest
fellow, with what is called a weakness for drink
though it might. in this case, have been
called a strength, for the victim had been drunk
for weeks together without the briefest inter
mission. To this unfortunate john intrusted
letter with an inclosure of bonds, addressed to
the bank manager. Even he did he
he perceived q certain haziness of eye
and speech in his trustee; but he too hope
full TO be stayed, senced the voice of warning
in his bosom, and with one and the same gest-
ture committed the money the clerk and
himself into the hands of destiny.
dwell, even at the risk of tedium on Johns